


always leaving

by maplegriffin



Category: Bleach
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Second Person, bazz maybe probably has abandonment issues, dunno if it's ooc, hope it's not, i guess, this went darker than i thought rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplegriffin/pseuds/maplegriffin
Summary: You’re always chasing him, barely touching his back before it fades away.(or, the five times jugo left and the one time bazz did.)





	always leaving

**Author's Note:**

> aug. 7/18 - aug. 12/18
> 
> heck
> 
> what am i doing
> 
> also, tenses are hard, grammar is hard. heck, characterisation is hard. writing is hard. everything is but hope you enjoy :3c

The first time Jugo leaves, you threw a rabbit at him to get him to stay. Even if it's for just a little bit, it's more time than your father nor any of the servants of the mansion had been willing to give you.

You craved for human contact so you talked and the way his eyes assessed you as you realized you had blurted out your name, creeped you out (but later, it's a skill that impresses you); but _human contact_  was more important than that little detail at the time so you let it slid (how wrong you were).

You may have had been the one who ended the conversation through your leave but he was the one who started it all (this entire unhealthy cycle of clinginess and abandonment).

(You don’t realize until later that Jugo coming back was a luxury that you never thought you would have lost.)

 

* * *

 

The second time he turned his back on you was around two years after the burning of your village. Jugo had been quiet while you had been on one of your rants, listening like he usually did as he cleans his arrows. In the middle of roasting the two of you's dinner, he abruptly got up, shoulders tensed as he walked away. 

You sat in silence, shocked. As you gathered your senses, you reasoned that he would be coming back to the camp (to you), as his precious bow and quiver were still sitting on the rocks where he had gently placed them down prior to cooking the duck.

You eventually decided to follow him, left the duck where it was, not knowing if he wanted to see you, but still willing and stubborn enough to try. 

You find him against a tree, face buried in his hands, elbows propped just above his knees. He doesn't make a sound as you approach, but you knew he must have felt your presence with the way he stiffened. You didn't say anything, just sat down against the tree, a few hands away.

The two of you sat in silence before you couldn't take the endless chirping of the crickets nor the slight shivering of Jugo's frame anymore.

"Hey, Jugo."

He had not replied, but his head was slightly tilted towards you. You had caught a flash of his gold eyes before you turned your gaze to the night sky.

"'M sorry. For earlier." You paused and realized that it was too lame of an apology and you were anything _but_ lame. "Sorry for talking...too much."

He did not say anything, instead, at the corner of your eye, raised his head and gave you silent permission to continue. The words tumbled out after that and like always, Jugo listened, but instead of the words being about you, Bazzard Black, they were about him, the one thing you had come to treasure so much.

(It's a win. Especially compared to your future of seeing Jugo's back and his boots, years later.)

 

* * *

 

The third time hurts the most. 

It hurts because it feels like betrayal, because it feels like you were at the edge of your village again, on your hands and knees, watching everything and everyone burn.

You don't think that Jugo would have had understood why you reacted the way you did as he agreed to go with Yhwach. He had not lost much during the fire, his uncle was abusive and you had thought _good riddance_ as you and Jugo had found the remains of his corpse. You had known, of course, the bruises he would have gotten were usually bright and angry when he met you at your meeting spot. That, combined with the increased demands of what Jugo had to hunt was easy enough for you to have figured it out.

You had watched him as he willingly took from the ruins of his home, a calm, calculated look that screamed of hatred and disgust directed towards the pile of bones. You pretend you do not see, pretends that all is fine when it really is not.

You had thought what a habit it had become, pretend you are not hurting under the guise of cockiness and confidence, pretend that the ache in your chest was not from Jugo's protective actions of Yhwach.

Even if they had had just met each other, had spent no more than a few minutes with each other, it had felt like you didn't know Jugo anymore.

(What a thing you had taken for granted, being able to read Jugo as easily as the fantasy books your mother had loved.)

 

* * *

 

It had only been three years since you had last saw him but he has already changed so much. The changes to his body were few but impactful. He had grown taller, hair was longer, his frame was filled with muscle, instead of the skins and bones you had developed over the years.

Not to say that you had not had any muscle, but living in the rural parts of the country did that to you, sometimes you were so focused on training you had forgotten everything else around you.

The fourth time was shortly after your induction into the Sternritter, you were pissed and annoyed with the lack of sanity and skill within the ranks, the instructor of your swordsmanship class who had kept on treating you like a child did not help your short temper.

Jugo was a prime target to unleash your anger upon. He was there for the legendary outbursts, had grown used to them and knew how to calm you. The rage was never directed on him, however, and you wonder how long that will last.

You hang in the gardens near the training grounds, you had heard from some of the more experienced recruits that Jugo frequents the place, whenever he is not doing whatever Yhwach asks of him. 

Your few interactions were stiff and formal, unlike the easy camaraderie you had before. It had hurt you and that only made you lash out even more, at your "instructors", superior officers, cadets, the dummies you used for training.

One day, the first time it happened (the first of countless attempts), he had easily brushed by you without a word, gold eyes stared forward, not once acknowledged your existence. He most definitely knew you were there, years without the ability to form spirit weapons had only amplified his sensitivity to reiatsu.

You told him to stop, as you threw a few choice words into the mix. Your taunts seemed to fly over his head, as he had not paused in his steps.

Pissed, you had formed your Heilig Bogen, firing off a single arrow. No surprise, he had caught it, but what had caught you off guard was when the arrow dissipated.

He had turned slightly, just a tiny bit of gold you could make out from under all the hair. His voice was cold, flat; a reminder that there was no infighting within the Sternritter and the fact that it was punishable by death.

It hadn't fazed you, but nothing really did anymore (perhaps Jugo was always your exception). The pain of seeing him walk away hurt, but you had become used to the sensation, it was a part of you now, as much as your Heilig Bogen and your hair.

(And here; here, is where you lost count.)

 

* * *

 

The fifth time (yes, everything from when you joined the Sternritter and now, where you renounced your loyalty, has all been crushed into one miserable memory with only differences in words and reasoning but Jugo always, always left), he leaves as you lay on the ground, bleeding out on Yhwach's precious tiles (vindictively, you hope your blood stains it, even if may be impossible, but you still do). You can hear his footsteps growing distant as he walks away.

He had won.

He had won and he had left you there, your grip in his jacket had slackened or something (you don't really remember, the blood loss must be finally getting to you), and you had collapsed onto the ground. The pain didn't seem to hurt as much, maybe you hadn't imagined it, a strong hand gripping your remaining forearm and lowering you down. 

You hear the soft tap of his feet as he walks up the stairs, back to the palace, back to Yhwach. (And it still hurts you to this day that he chose _Yhwach_ over _you_.)

You think of how the world will be remade. The Shinigami never truly stood a chance. Oh well, perhaps it could have been prevented. Maybe, you think, maybe in another universe, in another timeline, Jugo would have chosen you instead. Maybe you would have become the strongest Quincies together, thwarting Yhwach's empire and reign. 

Maybe then you would have been able to come to terms with your messy feelings (of hurt and anger and affection and confusion and-) and the boy you had been drawn to. 

But, in this universe, you're in your final moments by the hands of the only one you had ever loved and of course, your last thought is of him.

(You see the beautiful, eye-catching smile of a child after he finally shoots his first kill. Then it's white.) 

 

 

* * *

 

 

(You don't know this, but he kept your emblem. Your friendship had meant as much to him as it had to you. He has it engraved onto his sword's handle, always close at hand. You had never seen it, as it was always turned towards his body or covered by his hand. 

You don't know this, but your death affected him as much as his leave of you had. You had been such a constant in his life (except for that time where he left), that he could feel it in his soul.

You don't know this, but he had seen glimpses of your final fight the night before. He had known what would happen, could guess easily from the snapshots he saw of a slash across your chest, a missing arm when you attacked with your powers.

You don't know this, but he sometimes wonders what it would have been like if your roles were reversed. Or if you had been allowed to join the ranks when he had. Or if your village had not been burnt down. Or if the two of you weren't Quincies.

Never about if he should have stayed with you. Never about being with you. Never about the fact that he loved you, loved you for all your arrogance and sympathy, for all your cutting edges and soft heart. Never about that because Jugram Haschwalth does not have regrets.

 

But you, Bazzard Black, would have been his only one.)

**Author's Note:**

> no i am not ok
> 
> not after the first time i read the chapters nor the second nor fifth time
> 
> the love mentioned by them both could be firnedship or lovey-dovey shit
> 
> dunno if i got the point across during jugo's bit (probably not 'cause i'm explaining it here), but jugo's regret would have been leaving bazz, but he refuses to die with regrets so he did not allow himself to have any. did he die with any, who knows. he's like all about moving forward and stuff so i thought he would have been like, _no, i am not gonna regret leaving bazz, we ended up together anyways so what_. dunno if that made sense so imma take my leave now
> 
> tanks for reading :^)


End file.
